


chinese after midnight

by thepsychicclam



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 04:09:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepsychicclam/pseuds/thepsychicclam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Booth knew that having a job for the FBI came with risks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	chinese after midnight

Booth knew that having a job for the FBI came with risks. You couldn’t have a job where you shoot at people and have them shoot back and not understand the risks. He wasn’t afraid of risks. He went into the army knowing what happened to guys in the field. Every time he pulled the trigger on his sniper rifle he knew the risks. But Booth loved the risks; that was probably the reason he acquired a gambling problem in the first place.

Small accidents happened all the time on the job. While chasing down a suspect, run into a wall. While arresting a drug addict, get punched in the stomach. After coming home late from a bad case, get slapped by a girlfriend.

But when Booth started working with Brennan, accidents became a risk Booth couldn’t afford. If someone shot him in the head, that was one thing. But if someone shot Bones…well, Booth couldn’t even fathom that.

*

On the fourth case Booth and Bones worked together, Booth pulled a muscle in his leg.

“Fuck!” Booth shouted, limping on his right side. They had been chasing a murder suspect when Booth overextended and felt a searing pain shoot through his thigh.

“Booth!” Brennan snapped. “I don’t think the word ‘fuck’ is considered appropriate language while on the job.”

“Dammit, Bones,” he said through clenched teeth. He was hobbling over to the wall while other officers whizzed past. Booth couldn’t decide whether to curse a lot because of the pain or the stupid jerks running past like marathon runners.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did you pull something?” She bent down and started touching his thigh gingerly.

“Hey now!” Booth jumped back, and immediately regretted it. “I think I pulled a muscle in my leg.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t run after the suspects. Let some of the younger agents do it.”

“I’m injured and you’re insulting me. That’s not very fair.” Booth leaned down and massaged the tender muscle.

“It’s also not fair you won’t let me have a gun.”

“That’s completely different.” Booth tried to take a step, but the pressure sent intense pain through his leg.

Brennan just smirked.

*

Booth thought Brennan treated injuries in an infuriatingly scientific way.

“Pain is just a cognitive response to nociception – your body’s response to external sensory experience that warns your brain against tissue damage. Responding to pain is like a puzzle for your brain to end the harmful effects.”

Booth stared at her disbelief. “Yelling ‘ow’ wasn’t good enough for you, Bones?”

“It doesn’t accomplish anything.” She shrugged and applied peroxide to the large scrapes on her elbow. She didn’t even wince. “Now come here,” she said after she finished dressing her wound. Booth reluctantly stuck his elbow towards her.

“Not too much,” he said, anticipating the sting already.

“I thought big guys like you weren’t supposed to be afraid of something like a little pain. It won’t hurt.” She dabbed a drenched cotton ball on his arm. He clenched his jaw, refusing to let her see him flinch. “I see your jaw,” she teased.

“Shut up, Bones.”

She started dabbing with a lighter touch.

“ _Don’t_ call me Bones.”

*

Bones could take care of herself. She was self-reliant, a black belt, and had gone trekking through places like Guatemala without Booth there to protect her and without getting hurt. But call him old-fashioned, he believed it was the man’s job to look out for the woman.

But when Brennan kicked the crap out of some burley murder suspect who was threatening her, Booth wasn’t so sure she wasn’t looking out for him.

“Whoa Bones!” he said, proudly.

“Should I have not hit him so hard?” She looked down at the fallen man with a hint of uncertainty.

“No,” Booth said, slapping the cuffs on the bastard. “You definitely should have hit him that hard.” He jerked the guy up and shoved him towards another officer. “You opened a can of whoop ass on him.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means,” Booth sighed, “that you did good.”

“Does that mean you want me to start taking down all our suspects?”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

“But I can just jab a knee somewhere, and then I won’t even need a gun.”

“That, Bones,” he started, “is the very reason I won’t _give_ you a gun.”

She clicked her tongue in disapproval. “Then you leave me no choice but to resort to physical violence.”

But Booth knew there were some things that even a good knee-to-the-balls wouldn’t solve. And that, he knew, was where he fit in.

*

When Booth was racing across town in Hodgins’s toy-car, all he could think was, _please don’t let Bones be hurt_. He ignored his throbbing arm and the pain that almost blinded him every time Hodgins rounded a curve. He didn’t feel the pain in his head, the bruises covering his body. His pain was secondary to her pain.

He felt nothing but fear as he limped through the warehouse. When Brennan draped her arms around his neck and clung to him, he paid no attention to the weight of her arms and body against his broken arm, her knee digging into his aching leg. All he could think was, _I let Bones get hurt_.

As he lay in the hospital, he went over every detail again and again. He could have done so much differently and saved her from so much. _But you saved her from an exploding fridge_ , he told himself. _But barely_ , the other part of himself had to mention. It was lucky that he had opened the refrigerator. He was even luckier that he hadn’t died. Because if he died, who would protect Bones?

But she was safe, basically unharmed. She was supposed to go on a date with _internet guy_ (who Booth still didn’t trust), but she wasn’t going. She was with him. They were watching an old black-and-white movie on TV.

He looked over and studied her in the harsh light of the hospital room. The lights were unflattering. But even in the hospital lighting, with a few bruises, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“What?” She caught him looking at her and gave him a confused, yet slightly self-conscious smile. Bones was probably the most confident woman Booth had ever known. But on occasion, when Booth wasn’t expecting it, and in the most unsuspecting way, Bones let a bit of insecurity slip through her stone veneer. And it wasn’t directly related to her family – it was her as a woman.

“Is this considered a date?” he asked lightly. “Because I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling some popcorn.”

“It’s not a date,” she said matter-of-factly.

“But we’re two people. There’s a movie. You’re dressed up.”

“But there’s no popcorn; you said it yourself.”

“Small detail.”

She gave him another self-conscious smile.

*

The minutes Booth stood on that hill, looking at the desolate, empty ground below, were the worst moments of his life. Moments felt like hours as he inhaled air so freely while scared that Brennan had run out of her own. And one thought kept scrolling through his mind.

 _I let her get hurt again_.

When he saw the small explosion of dust, his feet started running before his brain had time to process what the explosion meant. He ran down the steep hill, ignoring the incline and loose dirt that threatened to give at any moment. The risk of tripping on loose dirt and falling didn’t scare him. Just like the risk of threatening to kill a man who wasn’t directly involved with Brennan’s capture, beating a government-owned computer screen that probably cost more than his weekly salary, and driving so fast that he heard Angela and Zack gasp in the backseat didn’t scare him. The only thing that scared him was finding Bones dead in a soft grave.

He ran faster than he could ever remember running. And when he got to the site, he fell to his knees and started digging despite his expensive suit, despite the dirt that kept falling back into the hole, despite the dust stinging his eyes and throat. He dug his hands into the earth, praying to God that the next moment his hand would brush skin and not rock.

And when his hand grabbed another hand, he knew it was Bones before he saw it. He felt her smaller hand in his larger one, and he tugged with all his might because he thought, _Maybe I can save her again_.

He pulled her out with difficulty, the earth wanting to swallow them both before letting her go. He struggled as the others continued digging Hodgins out, holding her tight to his chest because damned if he was going to let her go again. He didn’t care that Hodgins was still in the ground and he didn’t care that Cam was standing right there, all he thought was, _I’m holding Bones_. He laid her on the ground, looking to make sure she was real and alive, when she whispered, “Get Hodgins.”

Hodgins was okay and Bones was okay and when Booth looked back, she was sitting up and breathing and seeing and living. He fell back towards her, turned to her, and she smiled. She laughed and so he laughed because he had almost begun to believe that he would never hear her laugh again, never see her smile again, never have her argue with him or correct him or ask him what something meant again.

And he looked at her and she looked at him. He knew he should look towards Hodgins at some point, but Booth knew he was okay, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the woman in front of him. He wanted to take a page from Angela’s book and lean right over and kiss Bones, let her know what he was feeling because his mind couldn’t quite turn it into words.

But instead, he sent up a silent thank you to God. Then he grabbed Brennan’s hand and held it tightly as she struggled to stand and held it as they walked towards the ambulance.

  
*

Midnight and Chinese food, Booth decided, were the best medicine for any kind of ache. He knew Brennan wouldn’t admit it, because the kind of ache he knew she had was easy to hide. She seemed fine in the diner while they celebrated Zack’s new permanent position at the Jeffersonian. She laughed, smiled, even cracked a joke. But when she thought no one was looking, Booth could tell she had more than Zack’s celebration on her mind.

And that’s why he showed up right after midnight with cartons of kung pao chicken, vegetable lo mein, beef and broccoli, and general tso’s chicken. He even ordered half a dozen egg rolls and half a dozen spring rolls just in case.

His arms full of Chinese, he banged on the door with his foot. He waited a few minutes, then banged even harder with his foot.

“Bones!” he yelled. He knew it was after midnight on a Tuesday, and all normal people were asleep. Bones’s light was on, and he didn’t figure Bones for the kind of woman to sleep with her light on. “Bones, open the fucking door before I drop Chinese food all over the hall. Not sure your neighbors would like that.”

The door swung open. “They probably wouldn’t like you yelling in the hall and waking them up, either.” She had her arms crossed tightly over her chest, hip cocked to the side, expression annoyed. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, wisps falling against her cheeks. Make-up was fading on her face. She was dressed in grey loose cotton pants and a baggy t-shirt displaying the Jeffersonian logo. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on, Bones. I thought the armful of Chinese food would have given it away.”

“I can see that,” she said. She stepped back and allowed him to enter. “I mean, what are you doing banging on my door in the middle of the night?”

“I was in the neighborhood with all this Chinese food, and I thought, ‘Hey. I can’t eat all this alone. Maybe Bones would like some.’ But if you want me to leave…” He pretended to turn and leave, but Brennan stepped forward and peered inside the box.

“Do you have kung pao chicken?”

“You know it.”

“And egg rolls?” She looked up. This close, Booth could see the circles under her eyes, the worry lines in her face, the fatigue around her mouth.

“Of course,” he said quietly.

“Then you can stay.”

“How you doing, Bones?” Booth asked later as Brennan reached for her third egg roll. They were sitting on the floor around the coffee table.

“I’m fine,” she said with her mouth full. She swallowed, then shoved kung pao chicken into her mouth with chopsticks.

“Yes, I can tell. Shoving Chinese into your mouth like you haven’t eaten in days. You’re really fine.” He shook his head and tossed a piece of broccoli into his mouth. “Speaking of which, when is the last time you ate?”

“Last night.”

“Last night?”

“I haven’t been hungry. Until now. I guess it’s a good thing you came over.”

“It’s okay to be upset about your father, you know.”

“I’m okay, Booth.” He didn’t quite believe her, and she picked up on that. “I’m serious. I can’t say that I’m not still upset, but I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

“You will,” he agreed.

“The food really helped. You knew exactly what I needed.”

*

Sometimes accidents happen. Like when you accidentally drop serial killers off a balcony. Or accidentally shoot a clown. But accidents didn’t mean that Booth needed to be in therapy. Or that Bones needed a new boyfriend.

“I don’t believe in therapy,” Brennan stated. She was standing outside his door with Chinese at ten p.m. “But you seem to believe in Chinese food, so I brought some.”

“In the neighborhood?” Booth joked as he took the cartons from her hands and led her inside.

“No. You’re the only reason I ever come to this neighborhood.”

Booth shook his head and stifled a laugh.

“What about Sully?”

“He’s not coming over. I didn’t think it’d be a good idea.”

“No, Bones. I mean, he doesn’t mind that you’re bringing Chinese over to my house late at night?”

“I don’t care if he does. You’re my friend, my partner. You bring me Chinese food when I need it because you believe in Chinese food. So, I brought you Chinese food because you need it.”

“Thanks, Bones,” he said quietly. He passed her the carton of kung pao chicken and pulled out his own beef and broccoli. “You did good.”

He was rewarded with a smile.

*

When he was being tortured, in between _oh fuck this hurts_ and _omg will he fucking stop_ and _keep a straight face_ , he thought of Bones. He thought, _I’m glad it’s me; I didn’t let her get hurt_ and _Who will protect her if this sick fuck kills me?_

He had started to doubt whether they would find him before he was tortured to death. The pain was building from a merely excruciating to a fucking intolerable level when Brennan and Max Keenan came running into the hangar. A rush of adrenaline shot through his body, and he somehow moved just enough to knock the asshole with the red-hot poker on his face. His only thought was, _must not let them hurt her_.

Later, after Booth had accepted why Brennan let Max go, after they had shared coffee and pie at the diner, Brennan came back to Booth’s place with him.

“Bones, I’m okay, really. This was nothing,” he said, wincing as he sat down with some trouble on the couch. His wounds were bandaged, but his whole body felt like it had been in a losing fight with a meteor shower.

“Do you want me to get you anything? Something to drink before I leave? I don’t want you to get up. You need to rest.”

“I’m fine.” But Booth couldn’t deny that he loved how concerned she was for him.

“How about Chinese food? I can run out and get us some. This feels like a Chinese food kind of situation.” She paced back and forth in front of his television, fidgeting with her hands.

“Sit.” Booth pointed to the coffee table in front of the couch. Surprisingly, she obeyed without any fuss. “Thank you for the offer,” he started, “but it’s not necessary.” He studied her carefully. “Are you okay, Bones? You’re acting all weird.”

She looked at him for a few moments, then nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m not used to you being the one in trouble,” she admitted finally. “I wasn’t sure what to do without you. The finding the bad guy and the person in trouble is your thing. The FBI thing. There’s no science to it, no bones to examine. I was so desperate to have you back that I turned to my father of all people.”

“And thank God you did,” he joked.

“I would have done anything,” she continued. “Booth, I lied to the FBI! It’s not logical.”

“Does it have to be?”

“It should be.”

“Do you know what I was thinking while they had me tied to the chair?”

“Ow?”

“Funny, Bones. You made a joke.”

She smiled.

“Other than ow – as irrational as that is,” he added to tease her, “I thought, ‘thank God they got me this time instead of Temperance.’”

Neither of them spoke. For once, Brennan looked like she wasn’t sure what to say. No logical response, no scientific explanation. She stared at him, her moon eyes dampening with every second.

“I’m lucky I have you to protect me.” Her voice was low, unsteady, cracking.

“And I’m lucky to have you.”

He leaned forward, ignoring the painful protests of his entire body, and cupped her cheek lightly. He rubbed a thumb across her strong cheekbone, along her jaw line to her chin. Then he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips.

The thing that surprised Booth the most – even more than kissing her in the first place – was that she kissed him back.

And this kind of accident, Booth decided, was the kind of risk he could afford.

-fin


End file.
